


Justified Anarchy

by sobefarrington



Category: Justified, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Justified Anarchy, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobefarrington/pseuds/sobefarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's life was getting back to normal after the war. He had a good job, a few friends, and the peace he'd lacked for quite some time. And then, out of a blue, a visitor arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Again this is an unfinished project. And there may be some violence occurring, but none of it very graphic or extreme.

Monday had begun as it always had for Tim Gutterson, in the brisk navy blue of the morning with a vigorous workout, an almost-too-hot shower and a bowl of Shredded Wheat he had frightened with a banana and some skim milk.

Tim drove the speed limit down the highway in the general direction of his desk. He had the road to himself and enjoyed the peace it gave him. Cruising the outskirts of the city from his apartment while listening to Hitsville classics. Sam Cooke filled his car with sound while his coffee filled the car with scent. His first cup before his trip to the Vanilla Bean.

He stood in line as he did every Monday. The start of the week was always the busiest at the Bean. Tim had thought about it before and came to the conclusion that Monday was his day to bring the coffee because he had the most patience. He smiled awkwardly at the barista he encountered every week, a girl not much younger than him who made the order she had memorized with a smile. She called him Sir as a sign of respect, having noticed his badge the first time they had met, as he left with his order. 

Something that sat awkwardly in his heart every time they parted.

He put the discomfort of the encounter behind him as he pulled into the parking lot. Tim parked next to Raylan’s car, surprised at the earliness of his co-worker’s arrival. Raylan wasn’t ever late or early unless something was going on.

Something must have been going on.

Tim gathered the coffee tray from the floor of the passenger seat and made his way into the courthouse. 

Commotion inside the building was at a normal level. People moved about, going from one judges’ chambers to another, one office to another, making use of the elevator when they needed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Morning Tim.” Art greeted, meeting up with him in the hallway.

“Morning Chief. Got your coffee.” Tim offered, pulling the cup from the tray and passing it off to his boss.

Art cut in front of Tim, blocking his path right at the entrance to the Marshal’s Office.

“Ah, thanks Tim. Listen, this…. thing went down last night at Boyd’s. Doyle and Arlo were involved. Few others. Raylan brought them in. The whole thing is a big disaster.” Art   
spoke with his hands, trying not to spill his new coffee on himself. 

“Art?” Tim made an attempt to keep him from rambling.

“My point is, one of them mentioned your name. Said he wants to speak to you.”

Tim thought for a moment, and when he didn’t say anything, Art spoke up.

“He’s hold up with Raylan in my office.”

Tim looked straight ahead and looked Art in the eye. He leaned without moving his feet, stretching to peek around the man. He laid eyes on the men in Art’s office. Raylan, sitting in the edge of the desk, and a second man sat in Art’s chair.

He had sandy blond hair and wore a dirty white t-shirt and a leather biker vest. His black jeans were covered in dirt and one leg was torn at the knee. He sported a five o’clock shadow that he dressed up with a cut across his lip. Probably something Raylan had given him. The man was about the same age as Tim, but not quite. He didn’t think about it much. Tim recoiled back into an upright position when the suspect turned his head towards the door. 

“No one else knows.” Art answered what Tim was thinking. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Tim sighed.

“Doesn’t look like I have much choice. He might be a complete screw up, but he’s still my brother.”


	2. Veterans of Foreign Wars

A Week Earlier….

Tim had clocked in that Monday morning at seven and made his way out of the building at five after five. The day had been a long and trying one, mainly for his patience for which he never had much. Assisting the FBI with a case he’d work when he first arrived back stateside brought back the urge to shoot first and ask questions later. Instead   
Tim found himself heading to the VFW for a few drinks in peace.

He stared blankly at the far wall, trying not to study the map of the world posted there. He wanted nothing more than to drink in peace, letting the past and present memories that haunted him to be washed away into the pits of his stomach with the beer that ran down his throat. He guzzled back his time in Afghanistan and the hours he’d had entertaining the FBI. He sat in solace for almost half an hour, not noticing the man sitting at the edge of the bar for twenty six minutes.

Had the man not had to call for the barman, Tim might have gone on not noticing him, but he did, and called him loudly, nearly causing a scene.

Tim had looked up to catch the eye of a twenty seven year old Iraq war veteran, wearing a white t-shirt. He would have had a leather vest that never left his side, except for the rule about the wearing of ‘gang colors and the like’. Tim suspected the cut was close by.

The other man met eyes with Tim and instantly hushed his tone and volume, covering his eyes as he averted his gaze. The man was a long way from home, and if he was taking heed to avoid being recognized, he was up to no good.

Tim took a nanosecond to think over the various scenarios which might be played out before he resigned to getting up and going over there.

He took his drink as he rose from the table, the swagger seeping through ever so slightly as he made his way across the room towards the man he’d known for twenty seven of his thirty two years. A man that as a child would follow him around endlessly and idolized his very being. A boy who played cops and robbers with him. A boy who grew up into a man who still enjoyed games of cops and robbers.

“Kipper.”

Kip put his empty glass down on the bar hard and threw his hands half in the air, making sure not to lift his elbows from their place. He turned to his brother and remarked.

“How long as it been Timmy? Three- No, five years. Half a decade I’ve gone without hearing the name Kipper. And that’s the first thing you say to me? Are you serious bro? Shit.”

“You’d rather me call you Half Sack.”

“Everyone calls me Half Sack.”

Tim resigned to helping himself to the empty seat next to his little brother as Kip sighed. Though he loved his brother, he didn’t want his attention.

“Why’ya here Kip?” Tim came out with it.

“It’s a dry county Tim. This is the only place a man can get a drink.”

“I mean Kentucky. Pa told me you were living in California now.”

“I’m visiting some buddies. Why are ya so interested in my travels now?”

Tim huffed and tried to hide it. Kip was referring to something said in anger and jealousy almost ten years previous. Some half incoherent meaningless rambling Tim spewed to their mother when he was unaware of Kip listening from the other room. He hadn’t always gotten along with his brother, even though Tim made attempts to. There was   
just something about Kip, even from an early age, that Tim knew would keep his brother from attaining all that he could out of life. He could have been a great leader, but he always chose to follow. He obeyed those he admired, including Tim, but would also turn to those people when he was in a bind or some major trouble. Tim feared that’s why he had turned up in Lexington.

“Are you in some kind of trouble little brother? Did you need help?”

“Are you saying I can’t take care of myself? Because I can. I took care of myself for two tours thank you very much.”

“Until an I.E.D. blew one of your nuts off.”

“Fuck sakes Timmy.”

“Yeah,” Tim scratched the back of his head in thought. “That was uncalled for.”

“Yes. Thankyou.”

There was silence between the two brothers, as Tim wondered how to ask his prying questions, and Kip thought about how he was going to get out of answering them.

“Listen, Kip .. If you’re—“ 

“Are you .. um.. ‘Half Sack’?”

The bartender had cut Tim off, asking Kip of his name while holding a corded phone in his hands. He kept the mouthpiece covered, as though someone were on the other end waiting for a response. Kip answered in the affirmative.

He pushed his hands, which still clasped the phone, out towards Kip, offering him the receiver. Kip took it and brought it to his ear cautiously.

“Hello?.... Yeah. I can….. No….. That’ll be fine….. I’ll pass the message along.”

Kip offered the phone back to the barman as he rose from his seat. He slammed back the rest of his drink and draped his cut over his arm. He stood as Tim sat, staring his brother in the eye.

“Maybe we can get together for a proper drink before I leave town.” Kip offered, trying to be polite as he left his older brother at the bar.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed to no one but himself, watching Kip head for the exit. “Maybe.”


	3. Better Get Your Story Straight

Raylan sat at the edge of the desk, one leg straight out and the other half resting on the desk and half dangling. His left foot swayed slightly, back and forth, like a pendulum keeping time with the morning. He kept the man in the chair behind him in his mind as he continued to watch for Tim. The suspect refused to speak with anyone else. Raylan’s instructions to guard the suspect until Tim could be reached were making him restless. He attempted to sweat the man out, persistently asking him questions, pushing the boundaries of permitable behavior every other time. Still, his subject exercised his rights. He waited in perfect silence, without giving Raylan the slightest hint as to why.  
Art had sat in the room with them for quite some time, leaving only once to file some papers. That was when, unknown to Raylan, Art ran into Tim.

Raylan watched the door as the pair entered together, Art carrying his coffee and Tim still holding the rest. Raylan’s eyes wandered to the cup to the right of the empty spot in the tray. The one that was undoubtedly his. The large, black, piping hot coffee he was in such desperate need of. He was thinking of nothing else by the time Art and Tim reached the office.

“Finally,” Raylan voiced in regards to the coffee while standing from the desk “He’s all yours Tim.”

Tim smiled at Raylan and gave nothing away. He passed off the cup of coffee and Raylan left the room, heading for his desk ten paces away.

There was paperwork to do. Reports to be filed, arrest warrants to be verified and a small mystery to be solved.

Raylan had known every person he brought in. Each one. Except The Quiet Man. The man who was now in Art’s office with Tim.

He’d spoken no words to Raylan when he entered the house. Not a word. The sandy blond relinquished his weapons and put his hands behind his head as instructed. He co-operated fully, until the time when Raylan asked what his name was. That was when he mentioned Tim, saying he would only speak to him. Raylan didn’t know why. The man never said and he didn’t ask. Not until they were in the car and Raylan tried to speak to him again. 

I want to speak to Tim Gutterson he stated.

Over and over. His every response to every question was to mention Tim’s name.

Raylan had decided he wasn’t going to angry about this, and he wasn’t. But his curiosity was certainly peeked and he was determined to find out.

He watched from his desk, trying to make it seem less obvious. Tim had his back to the window, saying something to the blond man. He gestured once to get out of the chair and the man didn’t argue, rising up from the soft leather seat and taking a spot on the opposite side of the desk.

He seemed sullen as he traded places with Tim, as if he were expecting whatever was going to come. He was anticipating the next few minutes, but not in a good way.

Tim stood, resting an arm atop Art’s chair. He looked down towards the other man with much regret. It was a look Raylan knew well. He tried not to focus on the window, but   
Tim caught his gaze and moved to close the blinds, leaving the only eyes in the room belonging to those inside it. 

The next several minutes went by without Raylan as he started on the paperwork. He didn’t get involved again until he heard the gunshot.


	4. Problem Solving 101

Tim smiled at Raylan closed the door as he exited, fuming at his brother and the situation he put the two of them in. This was exactly what Tim had been trying to avoid since Kip arrived in town, and as usual, it was exactly the opposite of what Tim wanted that Kip ended up doing.

“What are you doing here.”

Tim’s voice was calm and steady. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to an already awkward situation.

“I told you-“

“No. What are you doing HERE.”

Kip knew what he meant he was just trying to avoid answering the question. He knew from years of experience that this was not going to work in his favor no matter how he played it.

“It went bad. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Get up.”

Kip looked his brother in the eye and saw the fury that brewed beneath the blue eyes he inherited from their mother. He was more than enraged at him. This week had not only disturbed his day to day life but also crossed over into his work life. Kip knew how Tim liked separation between the two and family interfering with his work was pushing it too far.

“You shouldn’t be sitting in that chair. Get up.”

Kip stood and as he did Tim pointed, directing his little brother to the seat on the other side of the desk. He shouldn’t be comfortable and sitting in leather thrones when he was under arrest.

Tim stepped aside to let his brother by, making sure to show him who was in charge by leading one arm against the top of the chair, adopting a downward glare at his brother. Kip took it all, trying not to let it bother him too much. He knew how Tim let things bother him. He tried not to take it too personal.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

Kip sighed, not wanting to tell Tim the story, but knowing he’d have to if he wanted to save his own skin.

“Deal was just about to go down when this cowboy shows up outta nowhere and starts talking like he and Boyd are friends or something. It sounds almost as if he’s supposed to be there, and just when I’m about to think someone on your team is dirty, he pulls out his gun and starts tellin’ everyone we’re all under arrest.”

Tim looked up and out the window. He noticed everyone at their desks, trying to start their day. He also noticed Raylan looking at him from his seat.

“What did he arrest you for?”

Kip was quiet for a moment, embarrassed for himself. He barely noticed Tim move to close the blinds behind him.

“I didn’t ask. Cowboy seemed pissed and Boyd just kept trying to push his buttons. Cowboy-“

“Marshall Givens. Christ Kip.”

Kip let go of a giant sigh before continuing.

“Marshall Givens shot a lamp in the corner of the room and Boyd just kept on going like it was nothing. He took everyone in when he found saw the stash in the loft of the barn.”

“Were you holding?”

“Always.”

Tim ‘s head dropped as he rolled his eyes.

“So you’re probably booked on Conspiracy to Traffic too. Illegal Weapons?”

“Not unless he’s figured out they aren’t registered to me yet.”

“Have you done anything else in the last few days I should know about?”

“Yeah, lots of stuff, but I don’t think you should know about them.”

Tim ran his free hand through his hair and over the back of his head, rubbing his neck to relieve some of the stress the morning was bringing him. He kept trying to run through solutions in his head, but he just kept returning to his first choice.

“Do you know the kind of trouble you’re in?”

“Kind of. That’s why I asked for you.”

“So you could drag me down with you? That’s awfully kind.”

“How many people know that we’re brothers?”

“Only my boss. Which you’re damn lucky about too.” 

Kip took a deep breath, feeling worse than he already did.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you.”

Tim ignored the snide remark and concentrated on finding another way out of the hole Kip had made for himself.

Kip waited, not wanting to interrupt Tim’s thought process. His brother was already at his tipping point and he didn’t want to push him to spilling so early in the morning.

“So.” Kip waited. “Do you have any ideas?”

Tim smirked.

“Only one, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“I don’t like the mess I’m in right now. If it gets me out of this I’d be willing to do almost anything.”

“All you have to do is go along with everything I say.”

Kip shrugged. It didn’t seem like too much to ask. Co-operation.

“Great. I’m game.”

“Okay. I’m sorry then.”

Kip’s face scrunched.

“What for?”

Tim didn’t hesitate pulling the small revolver from the strap at his back. He aimed and shot in a quarter of a millisecond, clipping his brother in the shoulder and tipping the kid over backwards in his chair with a wail.

He wasn’t going to be happy with him, but he’d agreed.


End file.
